


Inspiration

by queerstang (rosethomass)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosethomass/pseuds/queerstang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's struggling with his schoolwork so he texts Ed, who comes up with the perfect motivation for his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAH my debut into the Roy/Ed FMA fic-writing world and it's THIS. fucking typical. basically i'm struggling with my OWN finals work and i was just thinking "god what i need right now is motivation, like a prize for finishing. if i had a girlfriend, i'd ask her for nudes when i finished." and because i've been reading too much royed fic, i immediately thought of ed sending roy nudes as motivation hahaha i'm fucking hopeless. i have other stuff i've been working on, i'll post 'em after finals are over. :)
> 
> it doesn't really matter, but in my head ed is a senior in high school and roy is in his second year of college i guess. enjoy.
> 
> unbeta'd.

**this is killing me ed**

_i can c that. ur not even using proper punctuation_

Roy snorted.

**yeah, my texting is getting as bad as urs. proof that my brain’s been fried.**

_u text me for moral support and then insult me??? dumb move mustang._

**i’m sorry love. i’m clearly not thinking straight right now. ive been at this for close to 4 hours.**

Roy stared down at his notes, doodled a spiral in the corner of the page, puffed out an aggravated breath of air. He’d been at this for _hours_ and had made nothing even resembling progress.

_what r u evn doing???_

**essay. five pages. political theory.**

_holy shit those r the most disgusting words ever put together. how far along r u?_

Briefly, very briefly, Roy considered lying. Maybe if his boyfriend didn’t know just how much of a spectacular loser he was, Roy could feel a little bit better about himself. But lying to Ed never made him feel better about anything.

**i’ve got my name and date down.**

_damn mustang. not even the title?_

**can’t think of one.**

_think of one. now._

**?????**

_i'll make it worth ur while. just do it._

“Worth my while?” Roy muttered to himself. The words definitely tickled something in his brain. Every time Edward wanted something from him that Roy didn’t want to do—go out into the pouring rain to get Ed’s favorite take-out, let Ed change the channel while Roy was watching something, hold off on sex for just a little bit longer because Ed was too immersed in his book—Ed always assured him he’d make it ‘worth his while’. Ed being Ed—sexy and wild and energetic—always delivered on his promise.

Roy looked through his notes, thought about his thesis statement, the source material he was working with, tried to come up with a phrase that would adequately summarize it.

Texting Ed was always a good idea. Nothing inspired Roy like Edward Elric.

_pics or it didn’t happen._

Sighing, Roy snapped a shot of his computer screen with his phone, clever title sitting proudly in the center of the page, then sent the picture to Ed.

Within minutes, Ed responded with a picture of his own. It was a picture of Ed, Roy noticed happily, opening it to take in the full beauty that was his boyfriend. His hair was down from its usual braid, hanging gold over his shoulders. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing his black tanktop and—oh _god_ —a pair of boxer shorts that Roy recognized as _his own_. Ed’s arms were stretched out to get the shot, angled upwards to get the best view of himself, stomach muscles bunched up a bit as he hunched over. He was grinning, gloriously, brightly. Roy saved it to his secret folder of Ed-pics that no one but Ed knew he had. It was password protected.

The text that accompanied the picture read: _good job! write 1 page then text me back._

The bubbly euphoria that had risen in Roy’s stomach popped suddenly with a choking noise in his throat. **that could take HOURS!**

 _don’t u dare half-ass it asshole_ , was Ed’s reply. Roy whined low. No one was around to hear him anyways.

**will you text me while I write?**

_nope. u gotta focus. let me know when u get a page down. and im gonna want proof!_

**:’(**

_i'll make it worth ur while._

That was enough to get Roy’s attention. He set his phone down—not too far out of reach—and pulled his notes closer. He forced himself to focus, tried not to think about Ed, tried to string his words together, tried to get the thoughts and the theories and the opinions and the proof to back up those opinions…

Every ten minutes, Roy unlocked his phone, pulled up the picture of Ed smiling down at his camera—smiling at _Roy_ —and sighed deeply before buckling down and getting back to work.

A little less than an hour later, Roy snapped a picture of his computer screen, containing one full page of text. **Done :)** ,was the text he added.

_wow single spaced and everything. nice job! gimme a min_

Roy’s leg jiggled under the desk as he waited, staring at his dark phone. He almost jumped when it vibrated.

It was another picture of Edward—and this time he was shirtless. Roy ran a hand down his face.

His position was very similar to the last picture, except he only had one arm stretched out this time. The other one had the elbow resting on his knee, his chin in his hand. Ed’s smile was less bright this time. It was softer, gentler, sweeter, his eyes sparkling gold. Roy could see the scars on Ed’s right shoulder at this angle—the pink spiderwebs reaching over Ed’s collarbone and down his pectoral and stopping just below the beginning of his ribcage, reaching around to his back. Roy knew what those scars looked like up close, knew what they tasted like. He wanted to lick them.

“Jesus Christ, Ed,” he mumbled into his empty room. He saved the picture in his Ed-pics folder before texting back.

**i fucking love you**

_hahaha i know. u loser. love u 2_

**so if i write another page, do i get another prize?**

_u catch on quick mustang._

**what will the next prize include? you took your shirt off this time, what about the next?**

_guess ur just gonna have to write that second page and find out huh?_

**you will be the death of me**

_what i WILL BE is the only reason u even get this stupid essay done. second page mustang. get on that._

**i'd rather get on YOU.**

Roy waited for a reply but after a few minutes of silence, he decided that Ed wasn’t going to text him again until he finished. Picking up his notes again, he cracked his knuckles and started typing. He’d picked up some good momentum writing the first page, and now that he had laid down the foundation, he had a better idea of where he was going with the paper. The second page was done in half an hour.

 _damn babe. picking up the pace huh?_ was Ed’s response after Roy sent him the picture of his computer screen.

**what can i say? i found my inspiration.**

_what a fucking charmer. second prize coming up in a sec._

The second prize in question was a full-body shot, taken in Ed’s mirror. Ed was giving the mirror his back, taking the picture over his shoulder. Roy ignored the mess of Ed’s room he could see in the reflection, zoomed in to examine the details closely. Ed had draped his long hair over his left shoulder, so the expanse of his muscular back was in full view, the pink scars from the front almost perfectly copied on his back. His broad shoulders transitioned into a slim waist that led down into the beautiful V of his hips. Roy’s boxers were a bit too big on Edward, slipping down just a bit, enough for Roy to see the dimples above Ed’s ass, a shadow that led down to the most beautiful asscheeks Roy had ever had the pleasure to get his hands on.

Roy travelled lower, admired Ed’s strong thighs, smirked at the scars above Ed’s left knee—he knew what those tasted like too. He saved the picture in his second folder of Ed-pics; the one that had _two_ different passwords to open.

**if i had to write five pages about the magnificence of your ass, i would have finished this essay in record time.**

_ur definitely majoring in the wrong subject then._

**unfortunately, this university doesn’t offer degrees in Edward Elric-ology.**

_they should. then u’d actually have a shot of graduating._

**you wound me.**

_u r the laziest ass ive ever met mustang. i have to bribe u to get a fucking essay finished. ur hopeless._

**oh ed u say the harshest things.**

_u'll get over it. third page mustang. let me know._

The third page consisted of a lot of quotes, which slowed the process a little since Roy had to pay attention to get his citations in order. But it meant less brainwork on Roy’s part, so the page filled up pretty easily and within forty minutes, he was sending Ed another picture.

_ur getting slow on me mustang. gimme a minute._

The fourth picture Roy received was Ed gloriously, gloriously naked.

Roy was grateful he was wearing sweatpants as he zoomed in again. It was the same position as before, Ed giving his back to the mirror. His hair was trailing down his back now, leading down to the view of his magnificent ass, round and perky and just the right size for Roy’s hands to fit over, get a good grip on, squeeze to his heart’s desire.

**have you ever written an essay with a boner ed? it's not very easy.**

_don’t u DARE take a jerk-off break u dick. don’t u dare._

**wouldn't dream of it. i'm guessing my prizes for the fourth and fifth pages must be even hotter than the ones so far. gonna need those for a proper jerk-off session.**

**i did enjoy how my boxers looked on you btw. why don’t u ever wear them when i'm around?**

There was a long pause and Roy wondered if Ed wasn’t going to answer him and then—

_i only wear them when i miss u. page four. now._

**you are utterly precious to me**

_PAGE FOUR. NOW._

Laughing to himself, feeling his heart too full, Roy got back to work.

 **only twenty-five minutes this time** , Roy added to the picture of his fourth page.

_u better not be writing dumb shit just to take up space so it looks like ur working!_

**are you implying that i’m lying to you, love?**

A few minutes pause and then: _k. fourth prize coming up._

Roy took one look at the thumbnail of the picture when it arrived a few minutes later and almost slammed his phone face-down on the desk. He took a few deep, steadying breaths, braced himself, then picked the phone up again, feeling his dick twitch in his underwear as he opened the picture.

“ _Fuck,_ Ed,” he groaned, pressing the heel of his palm to the tent in his pants. He didn’t know what turned him on more—the pictures themselves or the image of Ed posing, alone in his bedroom, for them, for _him._

Roy saved the picture in his second folder before examining it closely. It was a shot of Ed, laying down on his bed. The only part of his face visible was his smirking mouth and his sharp jawline, his beautiful golden hair splayed out on the mattress behind his shoulders. Ed’s torso took up the majority of the picture, his chest and toned abs, his lovely waist and deliciously-cut hips. Roy’s mouth watered.

The hand that wasn’t holding the phone was between Ed’s thighs, which were pressed together and raised slightly, just enough to hide the good stuff. A hint of thick gold hair was just visible, almost hidden by Ed’s wrist.

**fucking christ ed the things u do to me**

_u mean the things i do FOR u. now hurry up. page 5. move it._

Roy quirked an eyebrow as he read the message.

**getting pretty pushy hm?**

_its late mustang. just want u to get this essay over with._

**is that all?**

Roy was expecting the interval that meant Edward was double-thinking his response.

_ur gonna call me when u finish the essay right?_

Late night calls for them usually meant one thing.

**oh edward. are you telling me that you’re getting excited taking nudes for me?**

_its amazing how u can even sound smug and cocky thru a fucking text. im actually impressed. bastard._

**are u hard under your hand in that picture love?**

_finish the essay and you’ll find out._

Roy made a noise like he was dying.

It was the most difficult conclusion Roy had ever trudged his way through. He wrote and rewrote and rewrote sentences, deleted entire paragraphs and did them over, checked and rechecked his previous pages to make sure he wasn’t missing any important points, abused the hell out of the online thesaurus, and it was only as he was at the end of the page did he realize what he was doing.

He was making sure to write a conclusion page worthy of a picture of Edward Elric’s dick.

Laughing at himself, Roy took a picture of the computer screen and sent it to Ed with the words, **i'm almost certain this is the most impressive conclusion i’ve ever written.**

 _i bet it’s fantastic. congratulations, mustang._ _u get ur fifth and final prize._

A moment later, Roy received a picture that was taken up mostly by Edward’s beautiful cock, the camera on Ed’s chest and pointing forwards, Ed laying on his bed with his legs drawn up, strong thighs framing his dick perfectly. There was a tuft of golden curls at the base that Roy wanted to bury his nose in and Ed’s free hand was wrapped loosely around the shaft. It was almost fully hard and a lovely shade of pink at the tip. Roy could almost taste it on his tongue. The ring of scars on Ed’s left thigh gave the picture the perfect touch, making it uniquely and undeniably _Ed._

 _call me,_ Ed texted not a minute later.

After saving the picture in his second folder, Roy pressed the number on his speed dial, and brought the phone up to his ear while his other hand pulled down the waistband of his sweatpants to free his own hardening dick.

“ _Hey,_ ” Ed answered after the first ring. His voice was low and husky, familiarly turned on and Roy licked his lips, smirking.

“I’d ask you what you’re wearing, but I already know the answer is _nothing._ ”

The essay wasn’t due until noon tomorrow. He’d have plenty of time to edit and perfect it in the morning. Right now, the rest of his night belonged to Ed.

*~*~*~

Two days later, Roy sent Edward another picture. It was a shot of the top of his printed essay, recently returned to him, with the number ‘98’ written in red on the margin.

**the professor said- and i quote- “good job on this. i could tell you put a lot of effort into it.”**

_congrats on the grade. what did u say to him?_

**“i just got REALLY inspired, sir”**

_fucking pervert._

**Author's Note:**

> and now i have to get back to work myself *cries*


End file.
